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Dreams 15
Luo You have become a great healer. You are surrounded by those whom you have helped. Their smiling faces and happy voices thread through the party, but soon there is a sour note, which you can't immediately trace. That dissonance spreads, and you begin to see those people you have treated wincing in pain, their faces twisting with the unexpected sharpness. Their eyes start to glaze and cloud, their skin turns ashen, and then dark, as corruption takes hold slowly, and then faster. Before your horrified eyes, you watch their skin grow shriveled and tight around their bones, their cadaverous jaws open in silent screams. Their bloated eyes look at you accusingly, and they raise creaking arms to point at you as they shuffle forward, before collapsing in heaps before you. Their skin puddles away, mixing into a black sludge staining the ground before flaking away into dust, revealing bones which quickly turn dark, and frail, before sinking slowly into the earth. Adams Relaxing at home, you are grateful that your ordeals of the recent past are finally, blessedly, over. You have aged many years in the months you have been away, but you can now leave all that behind you, with a glass of good scotch. Your musings are disturbed by a sound behind you. Some kind of scratching, or ticking, back in the study. Where you stored all the photographs which you never intend to show anyone. You're still not sure why you developed them instead of burning them. Despite your better judgment, you rise to investigate, because how could you do otherwise? Creeping slowly towards the back of your apartment, your hackles start to rise as a strange feeling comes over you. There is a great deal of turmoil behind that door. Cautiously, you turn the knob and push it open a crack. You see your photo album, the hidden one, lying on the floor, and fluttering. As you watch, shapes emerge from the chemically treated paper. Strange mishmash animals that should not exist, deformed men with elements of a myriad of twisted beasts corrupting their flesh, the dead and maimed fallen companions, all come lurching and creeping from the images you have made. Frozen in horror, you do not react until it is too late, and they swarm over you on their way to take over your home, and the rest of the world. Matheson This pit that Russel found is full of pieces of ancient junk, but despite its condition and age, you think you can figure out the intended purpose behind all of it. With judicious borrowing from more modern equipment, and some time, you are sure that there will be a working model of, whatever these were, up and running. The only problem is the size of the pieces. You haul out a snake you have kept in reserve for just such an occasion, and slowly skin it alive, while chanting: "Fornik Phthashen, preemen sinthger tserforung." As the snake twitches in its final throes, you feel power surging within you, and the massive elements of metal, stone, and crystal become much easier to manage. With some concentration and effort, even the largest components can be broken free of their ages-long entrapment and shifted across the floor. In a short period of time, uncanny lights and strange energies are coursing around the room, and through your very essence, guiding the way to more discoveries and innovation. Russel You have not slept well for as long as you can remember. The constant threat of the dangers of the jungle, combined with the unnatural hazards that have befallen the party, and the insidious spiritual corruptions of the soul that lurk, always tempting and always present behind the promise of power, have made you uneasy, nervous, and more than a little paranoid. But the group's morale is surprisingly high, despite the travails and infiltration by supernatural powers. You wake, suddenly, alerted by an odd silence. You sit up, but the camp is still, and empty. There is a stirring around the edges which alarms you. Studying the confusion, you relax a small amount, recognising the clothing of your fellow expeditioners. But something is off. Their stance, perhaps, or their gait, or the whispered murmurs now coming to your ears. You stealthily crawl out of your bedding, drawing your gun, ready for anything. As if cued, the entirety of the perimeter of camp turns toward you, eerily in sync. They begin to come toward you, limping and lurching, and you now see, in the flickering light of the fire, that your friends and companions have been... altered. Matheson has too many arms, and cold glittering eyes. Luo is glistening, with a wide mouthed grin containing far too many teeth, all too sharp. Adams' eyes glow in the firelight, and the shadow of wings spreads behind him as he speeds toward you. Joan comes toward you, sinuous and lithe, though she no longer has legs, and two sharp teeth protrude from her mouth, long, wicked, and dripping. You open fire, indiscriminately into the rushing crowd, but there are more of them than you have bullets. You forget to reserve one for yourself, and click the trigger several times before they swarm upon you, digging into your flesh with their variegated claws, teeth, beaks, and mandibles. Your screaming wakes you violently in the camp, sweating. Category:Dreams Log